Through Time
by Kate1221
Summary: The untimely death of a loved one causes Hermione to take matters into her own hands, and she travels back to the past in an attempt to save him. What she forgets however, is that it is unwise to meddle with time...


She never would have done it if she'd been in her right mind.

As it was, she didn't have a choice.

She brutally pulled open another drawer, emptying its contents on the unmade bed. Her thin fingers quickly searched through her belongings, carelessly flinging valued objects on the floor. Still nothing.

She threw open the wardrobe and fought her way through the thick robes that obscured the box from view. She fell on her knees and pulled it out, rummaging through the junk inside it more and more desperately with every passing second.

A fleeting glimpse of gold. There it was.

Her fingers caught on the heavy chain, and she pulled the necklace out of the box. Her hands were suddenly sweaty and she found herself fumbling with the clasp. A string of obscenities came from her mouth, and she inwardly prayed to every deity she could think of. Then the necklace was secured around her neck and she allowed herself to breathe in deeply.

She turned the Time-Turner.

Nausea swept over her as her surroundings became a blur and she found herself flying backwards through time. The sensation didn't last very long: she'd only turned two times, after all.

Her feet made contact with the floor and she tripped, unprepared for the sudden landing. She held on to the bedpost and managed to keep from falling over. She was standing in the same bedroom she'd vacated just moments before, the only difference being the obvious lack of objects thrown around the room. She didn't pause to give it a second thought as she fled the room, and made her way to the Quidditch pitch that would witness death before the hour had passed.

_No,_ she quietly berated herself. _Not this time. This time I'll save him._

She sneaked past the open door that led to the living room, hoping her past self was too engrossed in her book to notice the muffled footsteps. For good measure she cast a _Muffliato _before pushing open the front door.

She crossed the front garden in three steps and hastily glanced around before disapparating.

Seconds later she found herself several hundred metres away from the Quidditch pitch where Ron liked to practice. She looked up and was able to discern the silhouettes of the players high up in the air. With an uneasy feeling she recognized the blur of red hair that was her husband. She broke into a run.

As the Quidditch pitch came closer and closer, she couldn't help but replay the Captain's words as he told her about the accident in her head.

'_... fell off his broom. It was an awful height to fall from, truly awful. You should know that we tried__ everything, but we just couldn't save him. I'm truly sorry ...'_

She fought back tears as she ran onto the pitch. It was not too late to change his fate. She looked up at the players and cupped her hands around her mouth.

'RON!'

He didn't respond to his name. Of course he didn't. He was much too high up in the air to hear her screams. Still, she didn't give up.

'RON!' she yelled again, flailing her arms to attract his attention. 'RON! GET DOWN HERE! GET DOWN HERE NOW!'

She thought she could see him turn his head. Had he heard?

'RON!' She found herself choke as she began to sob, not able to scream anymore. She didn't have to. He had noticed her. She could see him turn his broom, could see him look down on the pitch. His eyes widened at the sight of her. He opened his mouth, undoubtedly to utter her name.

And then she saw it.

The bludger neared him from behind, soaring towards him with incredible speed. He was clearly oblivious to the danger, his senses too occupied with the woman down on the ground.

'NO!' She began jumping, pointing wildly at the bludger behind him. 'RON! RON, BEHIND YOU!'

He might even have looked over his shoulder: she didn't know. All that she was aware of was the image of the bludger colliding with him, his shriek as the ball knocked him off his broom, and then the forbidding crash as he impacted with the ground.

She could only stare, frozen with shock as realisation dawned upon her.

She'd killed him. By trying to save him she'd sealed his fate. He was dead. He was dead, and it was entirely her fault.

She collapsed onto the grass and cried.


End file.
